Why I Don't Do SI's
by Baron Hausenpheffer
Summary: The author ventures into the Hellsing universe, but runs into an unexpected problem... Pretty darn funny; give it a read (and review)!


Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing or any of its characters. However, I do own myself (courtesy of the abolishment of serfdom).

Author Notes: I don't like "self-inserts"; not one little bit. They almost always devolve into an exercise in self-glorification at the expense of the regular cast. However, this one is hardly flattering towards yours truly, and this is pretty much what _would_ happen if I **did** somehow find my way into the wide, wacky world of Hellsing...

* * *

"Police girl, what's your position?" a voice echoed through Seras Victoria's mind. 

"I'm on the roof of Harry's, a pub on the corner of 5th and Broadway, Master," she replied. "Where's the target?"

"Heading in your general direction," he replied. "I'm following her through a crowd right now; she knows I'm here and is wisely trying to escape me. We're not too far away from 5th Street, so I'll just lead her into an alley there and gun her down. I really don't think I'll need you, but stay in position just in case."

"Roger, Master," she replied.

The Hellsing Organization's latest mission was proceeding with relative ease. Their target was another "Freak chip" vampire, a young woman of around twenty. While it couldn't be confirmed with absolute certainty, she was the number one suspect in a string of recent murders. Now, the tables were turned and the huntress had become the hunted.

Seras took a moment to stand up and strech before settling back down next to her sniper rifle. Actually, she was relieved that Alucard was going to handle this one; although she had managed to drop most of her vampire-killing scruples, she still lived with the knowledge that "it could've been me".

"What's that phrase Walter always uses?" she whispered to no one in particular. "Oh, yes. 'There, but for the grace of God, go I.' Haha... That about sums it up. Ah, well. This is no time for introspection; I need to keep my mind on my job, after all."

"Aw, y'arten't to be suh hurd on yerself, Serus!"  
(For the sake of my readers, this bumpkin speak will be translated in italics below:  
"_Oh, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself, Seras!_")

Seras jumped in surprise; she had company. Whirling around with her rifle in hand, she nervously demanded, "Who's there?"

"Gawrsh, thur's no need tuh be s'dad-gum jumpy! Hur, I'll cominout so yuh can see muh."  
("_Gee, there's no need to be so jumpy! Here, I'll come out so you can see me._")

"_What the hell is he saying?_" Seras wondered, sweatdropping.

As she tried to decipher his nonsense, her visitor came out into the light. He looked to be in his late teens, and was a rather unremarkable-looking fellow. He was about the same height as Alucard, with thick, straight brown hair cropped Beatles-style. He wore thin, steel-rimmed glasses and a shirt that had the words "Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups!" emblazoned on it. He was no hunk by any stretch of the imagination, but he wasn't bad-looking, either. He _did_ have two unusual features: the first was his rather squinty eyes and the second was his enormous, bushy eyebrows. Nonetheless, this fellow gave the overall impression of a friendly "average Joe" type.

"S-Sir, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave..." Seras stated hesitantly. "This area could quickly become dangerous, and it's no place for civilians."

"Shucks, I done travelt too long 'n fur to go on home now!" the young man answered. "'Sides, I ain't skeered a' no vampires. In fact, I'm hur to heelp ya. By the by, name's Baron, Baron Hossunfeffer."  
("_C'mon, I've traveled too long and far to turn back now! Besides, I'm not scared of vampires. In fact, I'm here to help you. By the way, my name is Baron, Baron Hausenpheffer._")

Seras scratched her head in confusion. While most of his speech had been simply unintelligible, she _had_ understood enough to learn that his name was Baron Something-or-another, and that he planned to help her by slaying the target vampire.

"_How in the world does he know about the vampire?_" Seras wondered. "_More importantly, how does he know **me**?_"

The Baron sweatdropped. He thought, "_Somehow, I don't think all of that got through. I didn't anticipate my East Texas accent posing this much of a problem; maybe she'll understand if I intersperse a few tidbits of British vocabulary into my sentences..._"

"Um, jawly good, Serus. Aw'll jes tippy-toe over to the eje of this hur bildin slow'r than an ol' bloke's mum, su's not to skeer ya. We kin pump that ol' bludsucker fulla led, and atfterd's, we kin go get sum fish n' chips or biskits or whatever ya want..."  
("_Um, jolly good, Seras. I'll just tip-toe to the edge of this building slower than an old bloke's mum, so as to not frighten you. We can shoot that old vampire, and afterwards we can go eat some fish and chips or biscuits_ (cookies)_ or whatever you want..._)

He trailed off when he noticed she was dialing someone on a cell phone. "Walter has been all over the world, so maybe he can figure out what language this man is speaking," she mumbled to herself. "Then, perhaps I can make him understand that he needs to leave..."

Walking up to the mortified Baron H., she handed him the cell phone. "Here!" she said, pointing for emphasis. "You talk! Wise man on line, who understand you."

"_Ah, well. Perhaps good old Walter will be able to comprehend my speech patterns..._" he thought with a wry grin.

"Hello, Sir. This is Walter Dulneazz. May I help you?" a crisp voice answered.

"Boy-oh-boy, am I glad t'hur from you, Wulter!" the Baron exclaimed. "Cain't really figgur out why, but Serus hur don't rightly understan' the way I tawk. Can yoo 'magine that? Haw, haw, haw!"  
("_Boy, am I glad to hear from you, Walter! I can't really understand why, but Seras doesn't exactly understand what I'm saying to her. Can you imagine that? Hahaha!_")

"Ah, yes, yes, yes..." Walter muttered. "Of course, it's obvious now. Tiky-zoot Seras, magoom."

The Baron raised one of his enormous eyebrows in confusion. Although he wasn't entirely sure, he guessed that Walter wanted to speak to Seras. The befuddled young man handed the phone back to the pretty vampiress.

Seras held the phone up to her ear. "Well, Walter?"

"I can't be entirely sure, but I can say with a fair degree of certainty that he's speaking in an old Jakartan dialect," he replied.

"Jakartan? As in Jakarta, Indonesia?" she asked, incredulous.

"The very same," he affirmed. "I must say that I'm impressed that you knew where that was, Seras. Most young people today don't bother to--"

The old butler was interrupted by the Baron's angry ranting. "Dang blast it! I ain't a speekin no rassa-frassin' Indyneesan! Nuthin' but the King's Eenglish is a rollin' off my tung, an I bet I'm a sight better with it then you idjits ur!"  
("_I'm not speaking Indonesian, dammit! Nothing but the King's English is coming from my mouth, and I'm probably considerably more skillful with it than you fools are!_")

"Uh, Walter, I believe I said something to offend him!" she gasped, nervously backing away. "He seems **really** angry! What should I do?"

Before Walter could answer her, a voice boomed "SERAS! I COULD USE A LITTLE HELP DOWN HERE!"

"Oh my gosh, I forgot!" she gasped. "Master, what's wrong?"

One look down told her all she needed to know: Alucard was surrounded on all sides by Freak vampires, and he was nervously pointing at an empty gun clip.

As Seras frantically fumbled for her sniper rifle, she heard the sound of running feet behind her. To her horror, it was the hard-to-understand intruder, and he was weilding a huge double-barreled shotgun!

"EEK!" she screamed, ducking to shield herself from the bumpkin's onslaught. However, the young man sped past her and hopped onto the edge of the roof. She looked up in surprise at her unexpected helper; he was opening fire on the undead army below and yelling like a maniac.

"Wheeeeeeeee-doggy! Take THAT, ya dad-burned moskeetas with blue jeens on! This hur's whit we calls 'Old West Justess' whur I come from. An if'n you ain't familiar with Teksus, the penulty is always deth! **BWAHAHAHAHA!**"  
("_Yahoo! Take THAT, you stupid mosquitos with blue jeans on! Where I come from, this is what we call 'Old West Justice' , and (if you aren't familiar with Texas) the penalty is always death! **BWAHAHAHAHA!**_")

Her confidence renewed by the assist, Seras grabbed her rifle and began firing as well...

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Once the smoke cleared, every last one of the enemy vampires had either been killed or at least injured; Alucard made short work of the survivors.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Seras turned toward her new friend and said, "Thanks for the assist... Baron, isn't it? I really appreciate it!"

"Think nuthin of it, sweet thang," he replied with a blush.  
("_Think nothing of it, sweet thing._")

All of the sudden, the sound of a helicopter made the two look up. As it turns out, it was none other than that butler of butlers, that gentleman's gentleman: Walter Dulneazz! He landed the helicopter and stepped out, a tray full of drinks in hand.

"Well, Seras, I must applaud you on a job well done!" he smiled, handing her a blood pack. "That was fine work."

"Thanks, but I couldn't have done it without my friend here," she giggled, pointing at the grinning bumpkin behind her. "I don't think I could've taken them all out without his help."

"I know; I was watching via satellite feed," Walter informed her. "I brought him a drink as well; why don't you take it to him? You're the one most indebted to him, after all."

"Sure," she smiled sweetly, picking up the teacup.

She walked over to the Baron Hausenpheffer and handed it to him. "Here, Baron. Drink up; you must be thirsty!"

He stared in dismay at the hot tea. (_NOTE: People in the American South refuse to drink tea hot._) "Gee, Seras... couldn't ya at least give me some ass?"

Her face turned bright red. "**Excuse me?**"

He looked at her in confusion. "I said the leest ya could do is give me some ass."

Her embarassment quickly turned to anger. "Why... you... **PERVERT!**"

With one mighty slap, she sent him flying off the roof and into a dumpster below.

The Baron raised one arm to the sky in pain. "_Why... did she do that?_" he wondered, a dazed expression on his face. "_I... only wanted... some ice..._"

With that, his arm dropped to his side, and everything went black...

**THE END**

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Heh, heh... I hope you now see why I never do self-inserts. For some reason, my _perfect_ English is always malevolently twisted, and I pay the price. Hahaha!

Sadly, this story isn't as much of an exaggeration as I'd like for it to be. I speak with an **extremely** strong NE Texas accent. Even my fellow bumkins and bumpkettes have made light of this... One mentioned that he could picture me sitting on my front porch, wearing only overalls, spitting tobacco and saying, "Pappy? When's we gonna shuck that corn?" (Of course, that particular guy is a bit of a jerk, but I still found myself at once embarassed and amused).

Anyway... give this poor, hickish fellow a review (it'll bolster my ego). Toodles!


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